Page 71 of Sense and Suitability
She swallowed, ushering back some sense for the sake of all women. “Since it was written by a woman, I think you already know the answer.”
His humor faded into something more searching. “And is that what you thought of me?”
The question struck too close to her heart. Her mind went completely blank. With his dark hair waving back from his impressive forehead, the structure of his jaw and cheeks almost like someone carved them from marble, and eyes so dark blue that one wished to peer a little closer to see if the shade wavered into other hues, it was difficult to think of him as anything except arrestingly handsome. But despite her current insanity—which she blamed entirely on him—she’d learned a great deal about governing her own emotions. Learned that hopes did not necessarily lead to realizations.
And those eyes weren’t meant forheradoration.
Schooling her features, she took a measured step back. “Why indulge your self-importance with such a reply? A man’s actions—not his appearance—prove his true worth, don’t you think?”
He released a pulse of air as if her words struck deeper than she’d intended. What had she said? And then realized he may perceive them in light of their failed courtship, and she quickly added, “And yours are commendable—your hard work, your sacrifices for your family. I have every faith you’ll find happiness, Simon.”
She shouldn’t have addressed him so familiarly, but the name fell much too easily from her lips. However, the comment did not resurrect the glint in his eyes. He searched her face for a span of time much longer than appropriate, shallowing her breath with each prolonged second.
And she reminded herself.
One did not always get what one wanted.
Parents died.
Finances diminished.
Loving someone didn’t necessarily secure a future with them.
With a faint smile, he tipped his head. “You are wise, Miss Lockhart, to temper my pride.” His lips crooked a little as if trying to findtheir former humor. “Though perhaps, in the future, I might find occasion to don my shooting coat more often.”
To torture her, no doubt.
She rolled her eyes in plain sight for him to see.
She stood and watched the carriage disappear down the lane, the longing for the impossible turning her thoughts toward prayer. If Simon Reeves could not become the hero of her story, she hoped he might become the hero of his own.
Chapter 15
Simon had taken her advice to readSense and Sensibility?
Emme took another spoonful of her soup, unable to suppress the smile tugging at her lips. From all appearances, he not only endured it but also seemed genuinely engaged. What would he think of Edward Ferrars’ secret? Or Colonel Brandon’s steadfast devotion? Or Willoughby’s betrayal?
Her spoon hovered midair as doubt crept into her satisfaction. Two seasons ago, she and Simon had formed an attachment she had believed to be one of the dearest of her life. The ton had interpreted their actions—though more restrained than Marianne’s and Willoughby’s—as a declaration of intent. But like Willoughby, Simon had left her without explanation.
Nowshe understood the necessity of his actions, yet the sting of disappointment, the whispers of society, and the wound to her heart remained. Had she unwittingly handed him a book that might cut too close to the quick? She had no intention of hurting him, especially with fiction!
“What is this I hear of you taking the Reeves children to the Sutherlands’ this afternoon?”
Emme blinked at Aunt Bean’s sudden inquiry. Thus far, their conversation had touched only on the weather, Thomas’s forthcoming sermon, the Langston boy’s cough, and the state of the roads. All fine topics. Pleasantly safe from Aunt Bean’s critique.
The narrowing of Aunt Bean’s eyes, however, suggested the current topic was anything but safe—for Emme.
“I thought I might do a good turn for the girls, Aunt.”
“Now, Bina,” Father offered, his tone mild but his gaze pointed. “Emme has always been inclined toward acts of charity. Surely you wouldn’t fault her for such a thing?” He gestured toward Thomas with his spoon. “A most Christian endeavor, wouldn’t you say, Reverend?”
Thomas’s lips twitched at the timely use of his title before sending a glance to Emme. “Indeed, it is.” He raised a brow. “Usually.”
“You know I am the very model of charity, John,” Aunt Bean countered, lowering her spoon with a decisive clink. “But one must not confuse charity with folly. I suspect there is more behind this particular display than meets the eye.”
Emme refused to lower her gaze under Aunt Bean’s scrutiny. “Those girls are in need of a young woman’s friendship, particularly since their mother can no longer provide it.”
Aunt Bean’s eyes narrowed to such a degree they almost closed. “Attempting to curry favor with your former suitor through his sisters will not achieve the desired effect. Frankly, I am astonished. Real ladies resort to such schemes only when there isactuallya chance of success.”
